


Wetwork: Naos

by taichara



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4020160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a very different kind of universe, in a sprawling gutterpunk dystopia filled with machines added to mankind, some things still stay the same ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wetwork: Naos

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _author's choice, author's choice, cyberpunk AU_

_Stay focused, idiot, come on, stop watching the pretty lights ..._

One of those 'pretty lights' -- the glowing icons in his cybereye's HUD that marked his teammate's locations inside Naos Industrial's corporate hellhouse -- flickered and disappeared. Swan's icon. That was the second time he'd lost contact ...

 _Damn it!_

It was getting harder and harder to keep his attention on his own progress. Scaling the inside of an elevator shaft, right this second, foot by painful foot, was not easy on the best of days, even for someone like him. He'd already had to shut off the diagnostic warnings from his cyberlimbs (apparently taking on that many top-of-the-line Myrmidons could actually push him into overstrain; who knew?), and now he was fixating on the HUD. 

Only one of them had to make it to the penthouse. Only one. It didn't matter who it was.

Pegasus drove steely fingertips -- gloves no more than red shreds of synthleather -- into the wall of the shaft -- pulled himself up, repeated. Over and over. Almost there. 

Almost. 

And the others ..?

He flipped the mental switch that turned on his subdermal mic, murmuring soundlessly.

"Check in time, folks. Status report?"

His gaze flickered across the translucent HUD overlay to an icon of abstract pinks as a wry, tired voice filtered through the pickups.

_[Maiden here. I've just finished dispatching what I think -- I hope! -- was the last Myrmidon. He's trussed up and sleeping off the dose. I'm heading skyward but might be out of play if I don't get this bleeding under control ...]_

_[Bleeding heart, more like. You fucking idiot.]_

Pegasus snorted, pulled himself up another stretch of shaft. Well, obviously Phoenix was there _somewhere_ , at least, the stubborn bastard.

"So, you going to finally drop stealth long enough for us to triangulate with you, jackass? You're obviously here."

No response over pickups, but a firebird icon appeared on the HUD. Right next to the curved sigils of Maiden's. Didn't that just figure; probably 'bailing his brother out' again. The two sigils began moving up and through the emergency passages, and that was good enough for Pegasus.

"Swan? You still out there?"

_[I've got him, Pegasus.]_

Dragon sounded carefully controlled -- not that that was anything new in and of itself -- and yet there was something hanging unspoken.

Another two feet ...

"Are we a four-man team now? Or?"

_[Unconscious, but I should have him brought around soon. We can make up the time.]_

"This have anything to do with why you stopped moving, what, a level below Maiden? We were supposed to be scaling the opposite shafts, damn it."

_[I'm not leaving him behind. He -- one of the Myrmidons was someone he knew, man. Someone from back there. Taught him everything he knew, back then.]_

_[Oh boo hoo, an asshole sacrificed freedom and common sense to become a corporate lapdog. Tell me he splattered that sellout's guts across the carpets.]_

_[Shut up, Phoenix.]_

Almost there, almost ... 

The HUD showed his own location, clinging like a spider inside the top of a thirteen-story plummet into oblivion. Maiden and Phoenix were coming up the northern emergency passages; Dragon was working his way up the southern side. The quiet prickled at Pegasus' nerves like spoiled soybeer. Compared to the bloodstained stealth and trickery of the last -- damn, had it only been an hour? -- it all felt too _easy_.

"Status. Has anyone else got the feeling we're being played right now?"

_[Well, we did manage to keep the security forces from sending out active alerts, and we've taken out every drone we've come across ...]_

Maiden sounded more confident than Pegasus would've expected from someone who'd first wanted to sit out the mission and keep up his barrens-ghetto mutual support network instead of spill blood. Well, good on him then.

"Think we might just get the drop on the bastard, then."

 _[... You can thank me for someone else for that. I'll explain later.]_

Hoarse rasp in his pickups, as Swan's icon flickered back online. Okay, well, whatever. 

Four icons were converging on his, now, so Pegasus pryed the eleveator doors open and eeled into the baroquely carpeted hall, popping his spurs; a quick glance north and south at silently-sliding doors revealed his team, battered, bloody, but armed and ready.

As one they rushed the heavy oaken doors to the CEO's office, and the heavy panels collapsed under a hail of gunfire.

The smoke cleared ...

Their target stood slowly, behind his desk, like some beatific devil, and did not give a damn about the bulletholes riddling his fine dark suit. His hair looked like a black aura, lit by the lights from the cityscape below.

Then he smiled, and his eyes sparked the crimson of delta upgrades.

"Good evening, gentlemen ..."


End file.
